Dancing in the Dark
by 99bottlestogo
Summary: When you grow up in darkness you're surprised when others are shocked at the simplest of evil actions. In the darkness there are different expectations for you. The world ceases to operate in the same ways. Sometimes you just have to embrace the darkness to survive. Two girls have learned that the only way to survive is to dance in the dark, and hope that you don't get caught...
Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is J.K. Rowling's. Except for Zoe and Reed.

* * *

Year 5

For those who had spent their life skirting the shadows, the reappearance of the greatest of all evils comes as a shock, a horrible, terrifying, all eclipsing fear that descends on their minds. This is not so much the case for those who had spent their time in the darkness; never leaving once the blackest of all of them disappeared. They were not surprised, for those who understood how the roiling darkness works, have been hearing the shadows whispering for years. This was never over. The personal bogeyman of wizarding kind didn't just up and leave. He has always been there… festering… waiting for the right moment to— strike.

Chapter 1-Blind Fools & Restricted Freedom

People tend to think that you don't know much when you're wearing your green emblem and sitting on the far right side of the room. The air of aloofness that surrounds our table seems to almost permeate the air, and affect the minds of those closest to us (the unfortunate Hufflepuffs). This is hardly the case though. The problem is that we are looking at everything, hearing everything, and analyzing everything (all the time).

If you ever wonder why Slytherins are scowling all the time, you should ask them the size of the pounding headache behind their eyes. It's sure to bring about a competition, but at least the stifling atmosphere would have dissolved. I swear Madame Pomfrey has a whole cupboard of pain relief potions just for our house alone.

I digress too much though as my mind wanders off like it usually does with not much to focus on before the start of the Welcome Back Feast. My eyes travel my table of housemates slowly taking in the changes that they've gone through over the summer. Mostly this brings about haircuts, good and bad (Crabbe shaved his head again, and Parkinson got a rather unfortunate cut).

"Are you judging the other little snakes again?" A bored voice draws me out of my contemplation of how many snide remarks that I could make about Pansy's hair before she caught on, and subsequently went running to Malfoy. I slowly (almost bored like) turn my head to the right to take in the boy who has seen fit to sit himself down next to me.

His dark skin, high cheekbones, and deep chocolate eyes, are more than enough to send the rest of the girls in our house, and others as well running after him. There's a small smirk imbedded on his face, and I can tell that he has had time to rest up over the summer. Being a disinterested Slytherin is hard work I'll tell you. I slowly let a small smile (actual smile mind you) flit onto my lips.

His smirk changes just the barest amount, and I can tell that he's happy to see me again as well.

"You have to admit Zabini the choices that some of our housemates make are questionable at best." I state unable to stop the second quirk of my lips. A flash of amusement dances through his eyes at that.

"Yes, they all do go for rather pedestrian looks. I don't think they've ever looked for outside styles than the old family photos." Blaise replies, thoroughly enjoying our little game that we play at the start of every new school year.

"Not everyone can have the genetics of your mother Blaise. Mere mortals like us have to rely on things other than looks to get somewhere in life." The cool slightly husky voice of Daphne Greengrass greets us seconds before she slips into the seat across from us.

Her usually pale cheeks are flushed pink form exertion, her long golden blond hair is secured into a long French braid down her back, and her blue eyes positively shine with mirth, at getting the first blow in, in her never ending insult war against Blaise. If a student of another house were to ever walk by and overhear a conversation between the two of them, they would think them bitter enemies.

Those nitwits would be wrong like usual for if you really knew Zabini and Greengrass like I do, then you could see the great spring of affection that the pair hold for each other. Privately, and in a bet with many other Slytherins I bet that the pair of them get their heads out of their arses and get together by the end of this year.

"Well it obviously can't be smarts Greengrass for you seem to be distinctly lacking in that area." Blaise responds with a slight curl of his lip. To outsiders it looks like a sneer, to us it is merely a poor execution to contain a grin.

I will deny it if ever found out, but I believe that the two of them are extremely cute together. As my two friends get into the swing of their long awaited battle of wits and words (they wrote letters to me over the summer of this day), I let my mind and eye wander again. The entrance of the Great Hall catches my eye. There are still students filing in from the carriages. The only reason that I get here so early is year of practice in being the first off the train, and into one of the blasted carriages.

There standing in the doorway is none of than that Slytherin Prince himself Draco Malfoy. Even though the pair of us are in the same house, and the same year, we have managed to stay a fair distance away from each other. It most likely is for the fact of who we actually are in life, more than anything. I may be a Slytherin, but I will never be the class of Slytherin that he is in my lifetime.

Standing next to him looking out of place as ever, is a girl donned in the black school robes the only difference being the deep sapphire blue badge on her breast that signifies a Ravenclaw (too smart for their own good). Most people would find it odd that a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw were almost always seen together, but with this particular pair it made sense.

They may not look it but the pair are siblings, raised by the same parents. Where Malfoy is pale with cool gray eyes and slicked back platinum blond hair, the girl has lightly tanned skin and short wavy auburn hair. To set them even further apart are the freckles brushed across her face, and the dark green eyes that seem to see more than most.

I watch as Malfoy takes a step closer to her and says something to her in a low voice. Even from this far away I can tell that it's private. The slight openness in her eyes slams closed instantly, shutting out all emotion. It truly is a tactic only learned by years of practice from purebloods all over. Part of me wonders what exactly was said, but years of being in this house have taught me never to stick my nose too far into the business of the Malfoys… someone always gets hurt.

Without another word the girl spins away and goes over to the Ravenclaw table taking seat a good two places away from anyone else. Malfoy's jaw tenses for a moment before he seats himself next to Parkinson a few places away from me.

"Draco! How was you summer? You hardly wrote me any letters!" Pansy is quick to simper threading her arm through his. Honestly I don't see how the guy can stand her.

"It was busy. Father had a lot of preparations to do for the Ministry and he let us help out." Malfoy says, though it isn't with his usual level of smugness. He seems to be almost sidetracked.

"Did Dolohov upset you? I don't know why you let her—" Pansy starts, but is interrupted by Malfoy slamming his hand down onto the table.

"You would be smart to leave Reed out of this." Malfoy's voice is dripping ice from it, so much so that his goons Crabbe and Goyle even shudder.

I glance across the hall to the Ravenclaw table to find none other than Reed Dolohov's eyes on the back of Malfoy's head.

Before I can dig deeper into the goings on happening between the pair, I'm jolted.

"Greyback are you even paying attention to a word that we're saying? I know summer break was long, but I never would have thought that you'd lose all your marbles. I wouldn't think that professor would let you." Zabini says rolling his eyes.

Immediately my gaze goes from my friends to the staff table. My sight lands on the man cloaked in long black robes that match the color of his hair. His dark eyes catch mine after a second. With a subtle nod, his gaze swoops back over to the Gryffindor table. I'm sure that his attention is only there so that he can scowl at Potter.

"Are you okay Zoe? You haven't laughed at even one of our barbs since we've got here." Daphne says lowering her voice slightly. She is by far one of the kindest people to be sorted into Slytherin. Her blood is purer than most here (far purer than mine), but she has an air of compassion around her that just hasn't seemed to be completely beaten away yet. My guess is that it never will.

"Just curious to see who exactly is going to be the new Dark Arts professor… it most certainly did not look good when the last one turned out to be a Death Eater." I say softly. Neither of my friends flinches, though there is a tightening of the jaw.

"Whoever it is, my guess is that they won't be good." Blaise says scowling down into his empty plate. The rest of the staff takes their seat the table. Now all there is, is the chattering of the students as we wait for Professor McGonagall and the first years.

"That has to be her… did they truly have to appoint Umbridge? We'll be lucky if we're taught to tie our shoes before the year is up." Daphne says suddenly and quite coldly. Blaise and I snap our gaze to the now filled spot to find our worst nightmare sitting there. Umbridge is a squat woman with short, curly mouse brown hair in which she has placed a horrible pink Alice band that matches the fluffy pink cardigan she's wearing over her robes.

"Hideous." Zabini shivers from beside me.

"Well its not like I had need of my eyes anyway." I grumble, pressing the heels of my palms into my eye sockets, trying to scrub the vision away.

"My father says that the Ministry no longer trusts that fool Dumbledore. Fudge himself saw fit to place her here." I overhear Malfoy say. I bite down on my lower lip hard, my hands clenching into fists underneath the table. So the Ministry is going to interfere at Hogwarts… I just know that I'm not going to like this. I'm especially not going to like her.

Professor Grubbly-Plank makes her way to her seat at the staff table. So Hagrid isn't going to be teaching this year (I'll file that away for later). This also means that the first years have finally made it across the lake. This is always the worst part of coming back to school, having to wait so long for your food.

Suddenly the doors to the Great Hall swing open. A long line of scared-looking first years enters, led by Professor McGonagall, who is carrying a stool on which sits an ancient wizard's hat, heavily patched and darned with a wide rip near the frayed brim.

The buzz of talk in the Great Hall fades away. The first years line up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and Professor McGonagall places the stool carefully in front of them, and then stands back.

The first years' faces glow palely in the candlelight. A small boy right in the middle of the row looks as though he is trembling. I can still remember the day of my sorting. It had been one of the most nerve wrecking moments of my life. Mainly because people fear me, or better put they fear my father. No one wants to mess with the girl whose father is one of the most notoriously evil werewolves in history.

Everyone is silent staring at the hat in anticipation. The hat usually says the same thing each year.

The rip near the hat's brim opens wide and bursts into song:

In times of old when I was new

And Hogwarts barely started

The founders of our noble school

Thought never to be parted:

United by a common goal,

They had the selfsame yearning,

To make the world's best magic school

And pass along their learning.

"Together we will build and teach!"

The four good friends decided

And never did they dream that they

Might someday be divided,

For were there such friends anywhere

As Slytherin and Gryffindor?

Unless it was the second pair

Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?

So how could it have gone so wrong?

How could such friendships fail?

Why, I was there and so can tell

The whole sad, sorry tale.

Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those

Whose ancestry is purest."

Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose

Intelligence is surest."

Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those

With brave deeds to their name."

Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot,

And treat them just the same."

These differences caused little strife

When first they came to light,

For each of the four founders had

A House in which they might

Take only those they wanted, so,

For instance, Slytherin

Took only pure-blood wizards

Of great cunning, just like him,

And only those of sharpest mind

Were taught by Ravenclaw

While the bravest and the boldest

Went to daring Gryffindor.

Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,

And taught them all she knew,

Thus the Houses and their founders

Retained friendships firm and true.

So Hogwarts worked in harmony

For several happy years,

But then discord crept among us

Feeding on our faults and fears.

The Houses that, like pillars four,

Had once held up our school,

Now turned upon each other and,

Divided, sought to rule.

And for a while it seemed the school

Must meet an early end,

What with dueling and with fighting

And the clash of friend on friend

And at last there came a morning

When old Slytherin departed

And though the fighting then died out

He left us quite downhearted.

And never since the founders four

Were whittled down to three

Have the Houses been united

As they once were meant to be.

And now the Sorting Hat is here

And you all know the score:

I sort you into Houses

Because that is what I'm for,

But this year I'll go further,

Listen closely to my song:

Though condemned I am to split you

Still I worry that it's wrong,

Though I must fulfill my duty

And must quarter every year

Still I wonder whether Sorting

May not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,

The warning history shows,

For our Hogwarts is in danger

From external, deadly foes

And we must unite inside her

Or we'll crumble from within.

I have told you, I have warned you. . . .

Let the Sorting now begin.

When the hat closes his mouth, there is silence in the hall for a few seconds before sparse applause breaks out. Now that was definitely an interesting song if I ever heard one before. I file that in the back of my head as well to think over it later tonight. Everyone is whispering to their neighbors wondering exactly what the hat is trying to say.

I glance down our table again at Malfoy. His eye catches mine and blue is locked onto gray for a few moments. He knows something. I'm sure of it, and whatever he knows Dolohov over at the Ravenclaw table is bound to know as well. Our gaze breaks when our friends nudge us both for Professor McGonagall is giving the entire room a look that just screams detention.

The whispers die at all four of the house tables. Finally satisfied the professor lowers her gaze down to the scroll in front of her.

"Abercrombie, Euan." She calls out. The shaking boy from earlier stumbles up to the stool and almost falls over. There are snickers from my table at his misfortune. I just merely shake my head a little.

The hat is placed down on his head; the brim is so wide that the hat nearly falls down over his eyes. The hat sits there considering for a moment before the tear opens up and bellows, "Gryffindor!"

The table at the far left side of the hall breaks out into raucous cheers. The boy looks so relieved that he nearly passes out before he even gets over to their table. After that I'm determined not to pay any more attention to the sorting. We get our new group of Slytherins like we do every year. When the last kid Rose Zeller is sorted into Hufflepuff the Headmaster stands at the podium.

I have heard much about Albus Dumbledore over the year, and I've witnessed much more. There are so many different opinions about the man out there that one can hardly sift through them all in a lifetime, but there is one thing that I am certain about. Despite whatever he may do, I respect him. That is a hard thing to come about with Slytherins, and even harder the way that I was brought up.

There is no way that that man is perfect. I've seen it for myself. That's what makes the rest of them fools (the Gryffindors especially). They believe that their headmaster— their leader is infallible. That is always what will bring about their downfall.

"To our newcomers," says Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, "welcome! To our old hands — welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

Blaise and Daphne groan in relief almost simultaneously as the plates all around us fill with food. I smirk at the pair of them, since neither one of them seemed to realize that they did so in sync. I wait a few moments to allow my famished friends to go first (mainly so that I don't lose a finger or two).

Once my plate is filled we fall into our usual pattern of conversation in between stuffing our faces like we will never be able to see such food ever again. We talk about what our classes are going to be like. Answer: hard. We debate on how bad a professor Umbridge is going to be. Answer: so bad we'll have to bash our heads against a wall. And lastly we talk quietly about things that technically we should have no such knowledge of.

Have you seen him? Has he been to your house? Did your parents pledge loyalty? How long until the Minister realizes he's a moron?

If only the rest of the people in this hall knew the knowledge that we are privy to. Our conversations are interrupted though when Dumbledore gets to his feet once more in front of the podium. Now is time for the real information of the night.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," says Dumbledore. "First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students — and a few of our older students ought to know by now too."

If only Dumbledore knows what goes on in our house.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door."

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"Finally they got that oaf off of school grounds. Let's just hope he never manages to find his way back." Malfoy snarls.

There is a smattering of applause for both teachers.

Dumbledore continues, "Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the —"

"Hem, hem." The very high-pitched somewhat squeaky throat clearing comes from Umbridge. She is on her feet, and it looks very clear that she is intending on making a speech. This has never before happened at Hogwarts. I'm not sure that I like this new appointment one bit.

Dumbledore looks taken aback for a moment before bowing his head slightly and stepping back from the podium, allowing for the short squat pink puff of a woman to take his place. If the faces of the other staff members are anything to go by, they're all very annoyed with this woman already.

"Thank you Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome." Umbridge simpers. A shiver runs down my spine and I share a disgusted look with Daphne and Blaise.

She clears her throat again with another (hem, hem). Oh this is going to be a long and torturous year.

"Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiles, revealing very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!"

I glance around quickly seeing that no one is smiling up at her. Why on earth would we do that? If anything she is managing to tick off the entire Slytherin house which is a very bad thing for her to be doing.

"I'm very much looking forward to getting to know all of you. I'm sure that we all will be very good friends." She says. I shake my head at this ridiculousness coming out of her.

"Fudge must be really grasping at straws if he's sending her here." Blaise mumbles.

"Don't underestimate her. She didn't get to be Fudge's right hand by being stupid." Daphne fires back just as quickly. She would know her father works at the Ministry.

Yet another throat clearing comes from the woman, but some of the breathiness that had been present in her speech earlier is missing.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Professor Umbridge pauses here and makes a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bow back. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows have contracted so that she looks positively hawklike, and I see her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gives another little "Hem, hem" and goes on with her speech. Snape on the other hand is giving her a blank stare, but I have known that look long enough to know that he wishes she would cease to exist.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation . . ."

And that is where I stop listening to her speech. I already know where this is going. We all do. The Ministry is interfering with Hogwarts. Honestly after the scene that Potter made at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament is the reason why this is happening. Dumbledore backing Potter up isn't helping his cause any.

Fudge is paranoid, but he honestly should be. He's not living in the same world that he was only last year.

Blaise and Daphne are playing a game of wizard's hangman, and I quickly point to A. I watch as the poor stick figure gets another arm. He glares and me and makes a motion that makes me smirk. If he had fingers I'm sure he had just flipped me off. We Slytherins definitely have some cool magic that we can add to almost anything.

Suddenly a change in her tone comes, her voice becoming harder. I glance up to get the last part of her speech.

". . . because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

Well that was a longwinded speech for absolutely nothing. The only thing that I'm absolutely sure of is that the freedoms that we have enjoyed here at the castle are seriously going to start constricting and growing smaller.

When she turns away from the podium and sits down Dumbledore starts to slowly clap. That doesn't mean that the rest of us clap as enthusiastically.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating," he says, bowing to her. "Now — as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held . . ."

I bite down on my lower lip in thought again. "Well this certainly is going to be an interesting year." Daphne says with a frown on her face.

Blaise snorts. "That's one way to put it."

Dumbledore dismisses us after a little while longer, and Malfoy and Parkinson start calling the first years to follow them to the dungeons. Blaise, Daphne, and I make our way slowly down to the cooler stone corridors of the dungeon. After a few twists and turns that used to be confusing years ago, we appear at the wall that leads to the common room.

"I've got this. I nicked the password off of Malfoy earlier." Blaise says to us before turning to the wall. "Brutum fulmen."

The illusion of bricks fades away and the door to the common room swings open. "What on earth is that?" I inquire following the tall boy into the common room.

"Apparently it's supposed to be like an empty threat." Blaise shrugs his shoulders.

"Snape must be worried about security if we're actually changing our password. No one usually goes looking for Slytherins you know." Daphne points out clambering down the few stone steps into the large and still empty common room.

A green fire is lit in the white stone fireplace, and the large overstuffed black couches are very inviting. The room off to the right is where our own small library is with a few tables for studying.

Blaise flops down into one of the armchairs sideways, letting his long legs hang over the arm, and Daphne sits caddy corner to him on one of the couches. I slump down next to her.

"He's been a little preoccupied this summer with the Dark Lord. He wouldn't take me with him, so I'm not sure exactly what is worrying him." I mutter scrunching my brow. I push an errant strand of my wavy dark brown hair out of my face. Blaise merely grunts his eyes already starting to drift closed from the unbelievable amount of food that he managed to consume.

"Maybe its for the best. You are only fifteen after all. He probably doesn't want you involved in anything too dangerous until you're older and you can choose for yourself." Daphne says, stifling a yawn behind her hand.

"Okay and that is sign that we're done here tonight. Come on Greengrass let's get you to bed. Zabini— if I come back down here in a few hours and find you passed out there, I'm conjuring a bucket of water to douse you with." I growl a warning to him.

Blaise merely waves his hand lazily in my direction. "Ooh… Greyback's got fangs…" He mumbles as I direct a sleepy Daphne towards the left hall and down the corridor to the fifth year dormitory. I push open the door to the familiar blue/green glow coming from the Black Lake above us. I watch as a fish swims overhead, and direct Daphne over to her green-canopied bed. She collapses face first on the bed, and I sigh at the pointlessness of it all.

This has been our routine for the last four years. She would pass out in her clothes on the bed, and I would be left to take her shoes off, and throw the green knit quilt over her. It gets cold down here, so we need the extra warmth. I give her one last fond look (yes I can be fond), and close the drapes around her bed so that the others won't disturb her when they come in.

I make my way over to my bed, which is beside hers. I bend down and undo the latch on my trunk. I slowly open the trunk incase someone else happens to walk into the room. You learn to value your privacy when living in this house. I glance down frowning at the slip of parchment that's on top of my folded clothes.

I take out the paper before grabbing my pajamas. I stuff the note under my pillow, before quickly slipping into the bathroom to change. By the time I get back into my room Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode are in the room as well. They acknowledge me with merely the slight incline of their heads. On the first night back we're all not usually that talkative the adjustment from home to school is a hard one for us.  
All bets are off the next morning though. I quickly slip into my bed, and close the drapes around mine as well. I get comfortable, before slipping my hand across the cool sheets and underneath my pillow grasping the slip of paper. Once I have drawn it out, my eye falls immediately to the familiar messy slanted script.

 _Watch yourself._

I grasp the note tightly in my hand my jaw clenching. Something big is going on here, and I'm not seeing it. So much for school being a break from the outside world. I stuff the note back under my pillow and resolutely close my eyes.

This too will pass. It always does. I'm just going to have to be more— observant.


End file.
